Not a Curse to Fear
by Syril Silverleaf
Summary: Young Aragron, Estel, finds himself fearing death when Elrond sits down to talk with him.


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With a twist and a flutter Aragorn let the rock fall. He stared down the well until he heard the stone plunk into the water. Elrohir turned at the sound.

"Estel," the elf said, sounding worried.

Aragorn lifted his head and looked at him without moving his body.

Battle was rather disappointing. As well as sickening. Aragorns first taste of battle, man aginst man, was a very fast experience, and left him in a world of daze. Fear also.

"Estel," Elrohir spoke again. "It could not have been helped. The enemy was not of our choice and rarely ever is, but we have to get back to Imladris. Father will be waiting and we are already late enough with Elladan stopping every five minutes to hide our tracks."

The trio had been traveling none stop ever since they had run into those wild men. Aragorn had been wounded and they had just stopped to rebandage his wound and to get some water and were now awaiting the return of Elladan so that they could continue on their way.

"Estel," for the third time Elrohir said Aragorns name and for the first time he reached out to touch his arm. "I know how it feels."

No, Aragorn thought, you don't, but he said nothing. His shoulders were tense and his leg was aching where it had been sliced open.

"What you are feeling is natural." But that snapped the young human.

"Oh? And how would you know? You didn't see what I did and you wouldn't under stand even if you did." Aragorn leaned over the well and looked at his perfectly mirrored face. But it wasn't his face he was seeing. It was the mans slowly dulling brown eyes and Aragorn was watching his jaw go slack all over again. Death.

"You probably won't die," Aragorn said in a whisper. "Not until you choose. But I won't, Elrohir, I won't. You can live forever, are immortal, but I am going to die. And I won't have e a choice about whether or not I will." He whirled about and glared at his brother-friend. "How can you stand there and tell me that you know how I feel when you yourself have no feelings?" Aragorn probably would have been more rational if he had not been so angry.

Elladan stopped mid-step when he heard the words come out of Estel's mouth. No feelings? Did he think them heartless? The elf opened his mouth to tell Estel something of his feelings but stopped when Elrohir held up a hand to stop him.

They all mounted in silence and rode the rest of the way to Imladris with heavy minds and hearts.

Lord Elrond watched Estel as the boy sat on the bench. His sons had told him of Aagorns mean words and the elf-lord knew that this was the right time to talk to him about it

Elrond approached the back of Aragorn and set a hand on the boy's shoulder. Most Men might have flinched or even jumped but Aqragorn was long used to the quietness of the elves.

"I know what you are thinking of," Elrond said. "And I know how you think on it." Aragorn stole a guilty look at the elf as Elrond took a seat beside him.

They sat in a thick silence for a long while before Aragorn finally said "My lor-"

Elrond held up a finger. "Immortality," He said slowly, "is both the blessing and the curse of the Firstborn." He paused once again. "While we live for ages, the ones of other races live in what seams to be a blink of an eye for most of the beings of our kind. Relationships like ours," He inclined his head towards Aragorn, "are rare to say the least. But I think it has been good for us." He spoke of himself and of his sons.

Death," the elf continued after another heavy pause, "is a fickle thing." They both watched a small blue jay peck at the ground. "The Elves' Death is a slow process and for others it is all too fast. But to live one must die as well. For a life with out death is a life without love, friendship, happiness, and without any chance of remembrance."

As the elf rose, he looked down at Aragorn. "Do not fear it, Estel." He ordered. "For fear of it is a waste of life."

When Elrond walked away, Aragorn stood. He had some amends to make and he would make them. The wild men had been inevitable and he had no doubt that they would happen many more times in his life. But he could not let fear hold him. And he would live.


End file.
